The Wedding Crash: Delivered From The Dead

The Wedding Crash: Delivered From The Dead

Evie Schoofs

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I worked three desperate jobs for Olivia, my wife, after her family's fashion empire crumbled, drowning in millions of debt. She claimed we needed a 'fake divorce' to protect me, a sacrifice I bravely accepted, even enrolling in a high-risk medical trial for quick cash. But one afternoon, arriving home early, I overheard her silky voice, a shocking confession to her assistant: our 'divorce' was a charade. She planned to marry her brand director, Julian, for a 'big splash' society wedding, then later divorce him and remarry me. My world imploded. Every ounce of my dedication, every aching muscle and every risk I took, had been a calculated lie. The divorce papers became lead in my hand, burning with the truth of her deceit. Then came the crushing news: the experimental trial had failed, leaving me with just one month to live. Adding insult to fatal injury, I received her elegant wedding invitation to Julian Thorne, set for one month from now. How could the woman I'd loved so fiercely, for whom I'd sacrificed everything, be such a cold, calculating monster? My heart shattered, but a quiet resolve hardened my spirit. I wouldn't be there to see her wedding, but my final, silent revenge would arrive precisely on time, delivered in a shocking package for Olivia Hayes, at The Grand Astoria, on her wedding day.

Introduction

I worked three desperate jobs for Olivia, my wife, after her family's fashion empire crumbled, drowning in millions of debt.

She claimed we needed a 'fake divorce' to protect me, a sacrifice I bravely accepted, even enrolling in a high-risk medical trial for quick cash.

But one afternoon, arriving home early, I overheard her silky voice, a shocking confession to her assistant: our 'divorce' was a charade.

She planned to marry her brand director, Julian, for a 'big splash' society wedding, then later divorce him and remarry me.

My world imploded.

Every ounce of my dedication, every aching muscle and every risk I took, had been a calculated lie.

The divorce papers became lead in my hand, burning with the truth of her deceit.

Then came the crushing news: the experimental trial had failed, leaving me with just one month to live.

Adding insult to fatal injury, I received her elegant wedding invitation to Julian Thorne, set for one month from now.

How could the woman I'd loved so fiercely, for whom I'd sacrificed everything, be such a cold, calculating monster?

My heart shattered, but a quiet resolve hardened my spirit.

I wouldn't be there to see her wedding, but my final, silent revenge would arrive precisely on time, delivered in a shocking package for Olivia Hayes, at The Grand Astoria, on her wedding day.

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The heavy iron gate groaned open, releasing me after seven long years. Dr. Evelyn Reed. Once a brilliant surgeon, now just an ex-con. My husband, David, and our son, Ethan, were there, a beacon of hope in the sharp sunlight. "Evelyn, you' re finally out. Welcome home," David whispered, holding me tight. I thought their love was my lifeline, the one thing that kept me alive. But in a dusty closet, an old voice recorder shattered that illusion. "Dad, didn' t you set her up? Why didn' t you let her stay in jail longer? Seeing her makes Aunt Sarah unhappy." Ethan' s voice, then David' s, stern and unfamiliar. "She deserves everything she got!" My blood ran cold. The evidence against me-medical malpractice, illegal human trials, organ trafficking-it had all been fabricated. David, my own husband, had actively participated. My son, Ethan, had testified against me. My adopted grandfather, dead. My biological parents, publicly disowning me for Sarah, the girl they raised in my place. My career, ruined. My life, a stepping stone for her. The house, once a sanctuary, was a shrine to Sarah, filled with portraits of her painted by David and Ethan – a love and adoration they never showed me. All their affections, all their promises, were a monstrous lie. Overwhelmed, I stumbled upon a forgotten phone number-a promise made in the depths of my despair. My hands shook as I dialed, a quiet whisper sealing my fate. "The time has come to fulfill that promise."

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I sat on the cold tile floor of our Upper East Side penthouse, staring at the two pink lines until my vision blurred. After ten years of loving Julian Sterling and three years of a hollow marriage, I finally had the one thing that could bridge the distance between us. I was pregnant. But Julian didn't come home with flowers for our anniversary. He tossed a thick manila envelope onto the marble coffee table with a heavy thud. Fiona, the woman he'd truly loved for years, was back in New York, and he told me our "business deal" was officially over. "Sign it," He said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. He looked at me with the cold detachment of a man selling a piece of unwanted furniture. When I hesitated, he told me to add a zero to the alimony if the money wasn't enough. I realized in that moment that if he knew about the baby, he wouldn't love me; he would simply take my child and give it to Fiona to raise. I shoved the pregnancy test into my pocket, signed the papers with a shaking hand, and lied through my teeth. When my morning sickness hit, I slumped to the floor to hide the truth. "It's just cramps," I gasped, watching him recoil as if I were contagious. To make him stay away, I invented a man named Jack-a fake boyfriend who supposedly gave me the kindness Julian never could. Suddenly, the man who wanted me gone became a monster of possessiveness. He threatened to "bury" a man who didn't exist while leaving me humiliated at his family's dinner to rush to Fiona's side. I was so broken that I even ate a cake I was deathly allergic to, then had to refuse life-saving steroids at the hospital because they would harm the fetus. Julian thinks he's stalling the divorce for two months to protect the family's reputation for his father's Jubilee. He thinks he's keeping his "property" on a short leash until the press dies down. He has no idea I'm using those sixty days to build a fortress for my child. By the time he realizes the truth, I'll be gone, and the Sterling heir will be far beyond his reach.

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